Lyria stopped breathing.
The whole yard seemed to freeze with her.
The silver eyed woman stood there in the torchlight, hands still up, face set, waiting for the words to land. Around them, wolves paced low and guards gripped weapons tighter, but none of that mattered for one second.
Your mother is alive.
That was the line.
Lyria stared at her like the words might change if she looked long enough.
No. No, that could not be real.
Her mother had died. That was what her father said. That was what her whole life had been built around. A dead mother. A sold daughter. A pack that moved on. A story that never sat right but had always been the only one she had.
Kael's wolf stood in front of her, broad and tense, ears pinned back. He did not move. He did not look away from the silver eyed woman.
The woman did not blink either.
Then Mira said, loud and furious, "Okay, no. You don't get to just drop that and expect everyone to be chill."
